


Just a Touch

by AssortedGeekery



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Galra look like cats okay?, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Platonic Cuddling, Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 18:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13441023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssortedGeekery/pseuds/AssortedGeekery
Summary: In which a particularly tenacious bug gets loose among the Paladins, prompting a full halt for recuperation. Too bad Shiro's system didn't get the message about this being a non-emergency.





	Just a Touch

**Author's Note:**

> You know me, can't even look at a new fandom without taking my fictional sledgehammer of choice to my favorites. 
> 
> Partially blamed on cabbagespoon (Tumblr) because their sick Shiro is the best.
> 
> Also blame the list of puke-related starters I found awhile back. The one for this piece is : Are you sure you have to puke? You've been dry heaving for like an hour.

Humans, Allura had decided, really were an odd species. So many idiosyncrasies, so many needs that made no sense at first but slowly knit together into a species that seemed held together only by hope and a few overworked principals. Their biology was no exception. While Alteans did not vomit often, if at all, due to certain biological constructs, she had grown familiar with Hunk’s unfortunately frequent dashes for the nearest receptacle. Whether due to excessive aerobatics in flight or anxiety, he recovered quickly, apologised and got on with his day.

So it was a shock to be waiting in the hangar as the Lions returned, only to see Lance take two unsteady steps across the floor, collapse onto one knee and vomit noisily all over the plating.The general chaos that followed as the remaining four paladins rushed to him was even more confusing. No one rushed _Hunk_ like that, not unless they were rushing _away_.

Pidge jogged over to her, looking worried. “Do the pods work on illnesses?” they asked hopefully. “Viruses and things like that?”

Allura blinked at them. “Er….no, I don’t believe they do. You could use one for recovery, after the illness had passed, but...what’s all the fuss about?”

“...Lance is _sick_ ?” Pidge pointed out. “He’s literally throwing up _right there_.”

“ _Hunk_ vomits all the time.”

“Hunk’s different. And that’s different. Lance is throwing up a _lot_ and he’s running a fever. He’s sick.”

“I’m afraid the pods aren’t much good for illnesses...Coran might know a workaround, but I wouldn’t expect much...is it serious?”

Pidge shook their head. “Probably not. We have a lot of minor viruses on Earth. Just didn’t expect to catch anything out _here_ , y’know?”

Allura nodded faintly, watching Hunk help Lance to his feet. The Blue Paladin _did_ look decidedly less well than Hunk usually did after vomiting, pale and sweaty even from a distance, and his lips were pressed in a thin line, free hand pressed protectively against his belly. Maybe she did need to call for Coran…

 

It didn’t take long for Coran to confirm what Allura had said: the pods wouldn’t treat illness, and in some cases using them could make the situation even worse. Lance would have to ride out whatever ailed him in his quarters.

“Let’s just hope whatever he has isn’t contagious,” Shiro sighed, watching Hunk help Lance down the hall to his quarters. “We’ll see how he’s doing in the morning.”

 

Shiro’s hope wasn’t enough. The following morning, Pidge dashed away from the breakfast table with a hand clamped over their mouth. Lance was no better than he had been the night before, curled up in a loose ball of misery and fever sweat in his room. Shiro sighed heavily and announced that nothing short of an emergency was going to get them out of the Castle for the day.

“I _don’t_ want to see what happens if someone throws up with their helmet visor down,” he said flatly.

Hunk looked a little greenish at the thought, but no more than usual. “I’m…..gonna try and make something they can keep down,” he decided. “Broth or soup and tea….”

“Ah! I know of a perfect recipe for a curative jelly!” Coran offered.

“Yeah, uh….pretty sure the texture of jelly’ll make them barf again,” Hunk pointed out. “Soup and tea are the usual thing for stomach bugs on Earth.”

“But it’s an old _family_ recipe…”

“And if it wasn’t a stomach thing I’d be _happy_ to try it out, but I’m serious, Coran. Jelly on an upset stomach is _asking_ for trouble.” Hunk looked back at the door Pidge had fled through. “I’ll go check up on them first.”

“And expose yourself to this disease?”

“I carried Lance back to his room yesterday. I’m already exposed. And someone’s gotta. Might as well be the one most used to vomit already. Shiro, you want me to report back?”

Shiro nodded. “I’ll be up on the bridge.”

 

Pidge first. Hunk found them in the bathroom closest to the bridge, shakily rinsing their face.

“Please tell me you weren’t planning on trying to train after that.”

“No, but...I was maybe...going to work in the hangar….”

Hunk shook his head. “Nuh-uh. You’re going to bed, just like Lance.”

“But I-” Pidge stopped as Hunk touched the inside of his wrist to their forehead. “You know that isn’t an effective-”

“Doesn’t have to be when you’re running that hot. Definitely a fever and _definitely_ not working in the hangar. Do something on a tablet from your bed. C’mon, I’ll walk you back.”

“ _Hunk_ , I can-”

“I’m sure you can. But you _shouldn’t_ . We’re down two already, and I’ll bet you _anything_ Keith’s going to be next. Probably before lunch, since he and Lance are always in each other’s faces.”

“....winner gets to pick the next game we buy?” Pidge ventured. Hunk grinned.

“Yeah, sure. Who do you think it’s gonna be? Me?”

“Shiro. If I got it, Shiro’s been _right there_.”

“Fair enough. My money’s on Keith still. C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.”

 

They got halfway there when Pidge made an unhappy gurgling sort of noise and clutched their stomach. “Uh….H-hunk?”

Hunk looked nervously down at them. “Now?”

“ _Soon_ ,” they groaned.

He looked back the way they had come, then up the hall they still had to cover. Neither seemed like a particularly short sprint. “Okay. Let’s...um…” Pidge made a sick, wet noise. Hunk flinched. “Can I carry you? So we get there faster?”

“ _Anythiiiiing_ …”

He nodded and scooped Pidge carefully into his arms. “ _Please_ try not to puke on me,” he breathed, and set off in a run down the hall. Pidge nodded faintly, muffling a very wet belch in one shaking hand. “Almost there, I swear. You can do it.”

Pidge was actively gagging when Hunk skidded around the doorway into the bathroom across the hall from Pidge’s room. Hunk gently put them down and stepped back a moment, letting Pidge sort their limbs out however was most comfortable for them before moving in again, carefully lifting Pidge’s glasses off and out of the way. Pidge ignored him, much more concerned with leaning over the toilet bowl and heaving up everything they could ever remember eating.

“That’s it,” Hunk sighed, rubbing their back. “Get it up. You’ll feel better.”

 

After Pidge was safely ensconced in their bed, Hunk trotted down the hall to Lance’s room. The door opened at his touch, a minor program Pidge had figured out that allowed them to set the doors to allow visitors at will- or not. Inside the room was dimly lit, lights almost entirely down. Lance lay on his side, one hand on his stomach and the other shoved under his pillow, blinking owlishly at him.

“Hunk?”

“Hey….just doing the rounds, seeing how you’re doing. Pidge is down too, so we’re staying close to home today. Shiro’s orders.”

“....so it’s not, like….alien food poisoning?”

“Probably not, since we all had different stuff on that planet yesterday. And if it _was_ , you know I’d be the first one sick.”

Lance looked up at him. “....you _get_ food poisoning? You eat, like….everything at least once.”

Hunk paused. Honestly, that was a good point. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been sick from spoiled or strange food, nevermind that he knew he’d eaten both in recent memory.

“Okay, fine, maybe not. But I really don’t think it’s food poisoning. Pidge has a pretty solid fever.” He reached for Lance to test him as well, and nodded. “And you do too. So my money’s on space stomach flu.”

Lance sighed shakily. “Maaan….that takes longer to get over…”

“Probably, yeah. How are you feeling?”

“Only better ‘cuz I don’t have anything left to puke up. Hardly slept last night.” He raised a hand to scrub tiredly at his face. “And don’t _look_ at me like that.”

“You’re dehydrated. Want a water pouch? I was going to make soup and tea for later, but you need something _now_. Maybe something to eat, too…”

Lance heaved at the thought, forcing Hunk to make a dive for the bucket beside the bed. He got it into place in time for Lance to spit a thin dribble of bile into the bucket, followed by a lot of wholly unhelpful retching.

“C’mon, man, this isn’t doing you any good,” Hunk murmured, rubbing his back. “Calm down. It’ll stop. Just breathe.”

“ _Hh….hrp_ ….nnnh….. _oww_ ….”

“Yeah, I just bet,” Hunk sighed. “You done?”

Lance nodded faintly, curling back in on himself with both hands on his stomach. “Oh my _god_ , this is the _worst_!”

“I know. So. Water, and maybe I can find you a heat pack for your stomach.” He eyed Lance’s half-exposed abdomen. “Cramps, right?”

“...yeah…”

“Alright. I’ll be right back.”

 

What should have been a quick trip back to Lance’s room turned into a half hour of being Lance’s teddy bear while the Blue Paladin whined. Strategic application of a heat pack and head scritches eventually sent him into a doze, allowing Hunk to wriggle free, tuck him in, and head up to report to Shiro.

Keith appeared to be hiding in his chair, but Shiro was pacing slowly around the bridge with a data pad, lips moving silently as he worked on something. He looked up when Hunk came in, and offered him a hopeful smile. “How are they?”

“Not great,” Hunk sighed. “Pidge has a steady fever….Lance too. He didn't get much sleep last night...not bringing up much except spit anymore, and he’s getting dehydrated. Pidge might not get that bad, they’re better about monitoring themselves, but…”

“But it’s bad enough,” Shiro sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, flinching when a narrow join on the artificial hand snagged. “You’ve got things handled? I haven’t seen Pidge sick in years, and Lance…..”

“You’ve got Keith when he gets this,” Hunk agreed. “I’ll deal with the other two. You want kofi? I think I’m going to need it.”

Shiro nodded. More than a month ago, Pidge had managed to locate a comparable substitute for coffee. The chemical makeup was more or less the same, caffeine being a popular stimulant on many planets, and the taste of it, once roasted, was close enough, if a little sweeter. Despite Allura’s protests, the paladins had laid in a supply of the raw materials and put Hunk in charge of preparing batches of it. It was one of the most comforting, homelike things they had on board, on a level with the evenings spent playing video games as a team.

“Alright. Come on down in a bit, it’ll be ready then.”

 

By the time Shiro made it down, Hunk had kofi waiting for him and was fussing over what was probably some kind of broth, though not one Shiro could identify. Shiro ignored it, more concerned with the steaming mug Hunk held out to him.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he sighed, sipping carefully.

“How’s Keith?”

“Silent,” Shiro murmured, stirring sweetener into his drink. “More than he should be, without anyone else around on the bridge with us. He likes to talk, when Lance and Allura aren’t around.”

Hunk nodded, stirring his concoction. He knew full well that too many listening ears made Keith shut down in a hurry, and was grateful _someone_ registered as safe enough for him to vent to. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to go down next,” he admitted. “He and Lance are always in each other’s faces...it’s inevitable.”

“I know.” Shiro leaned over to peer into the pot Hunk was working with. “.....what are you making that out of?”

“Poultry,” Hunk murmured. “More or less. Human-consumption-approved birds of some kind. I’ve been saving and freezing the bones for broth. Here, try.”

Shiro obediently sipped from the spoon he was offered. Whatever it was, it looked and smelled more or less like chicken broth, and tasted similar, with a smokier, richer quality. He licked his lips, eyeing the pot. It was a lot of broth…

“ _Yes_ , there’s going to be enough to share,” Hunk laughed. “I’m gonna do up half of it with noodles and things for you and me and Keith, and the other half with just some fine noodles.”

“....can I just have a mug of it now?” Shiro asked hopefully. “That’s _incredible_ , Hunk.”

“Yeah, sure. Find me a mug.”

He sent Shiro on his way with a steaming mug in each hand. It was good to be team cook. Making people happy could be so _easy_ with the right food.

 

Hunk did his rounds again near lunchtime, finding Lance mercifully asleep and Pidge heaving over their trash can. He administered broth and tea and water pouches, and slipped away to see about feeding the rest of the crew.

They had gotten Coran to agree to only dinner being a formal affair. For other meals, they tended to gather at the round table in the kitchen. Coran took lunch to Allura, who was doing something complicated on the bridge, leaving the three remaining paladins to settle in to bowls of soup and something like biscuits. Shiro inspected his at once, interested and eager. Keith watched him, much less so.

“...this smells _exactly_ like you used wheat flour,” Shiro murmured. Hunk grinned broadly at him.

“That’s because I _did_ . That planet we were on, like, two weeks ago? With the Grimalki people? They have wheat! They said it was a grass they imported from Earth for animal feed and they developed the grain just like we did back home! Pidge and I gave them a basic rundown on how to produce flour, if they want to, and in return they traded us a bunch of it. Pidge and I got Coran to help with the processing and _these_ are the first recipe I tried with it.”

Shiro took a bite and made a small sound, deep in his throat. “Don’t even _bother_ with another recipe. _This_ is the one.”

“Just you _wait_ ,” Hunk promised. “ _Yeast_ is totally a thing on a ton of planets. I’m gonna bake _real bread_ next.” He put bowls of soup down in front of Keith and Shiro, then sat down with his own. “Dig in. And tell me how it is, I’m still getting the hang of space vegetables.”

Shiro did exactly that, with the kind of gusto Hunk had come to expect from a man who had enlisted the minute he was old enough. When Coran and Allura weren’t around, he had a soldier’s manners, and they only got worse when Pidge was also absent. But he was wholly appreciative of a good meal, and said so. Repeatedly.

Keith, on the other hand, ate slowly and quietly, which bothered Hunk. He was usually an enthusiastic eater, if you knew which buttons to push, and Hunk _did_ know. Just like offering Lance grilled meat was the way get him to do favors for you, giving Keith noodles was a surefire way to get him excited, or at least as excited as he ever was. The soup was thick with noodles, and Keith didn’t look particularly happy about it. And he wasn’t finishing his serving either.

“....did I….give you too much?” Hunk ventured.

“Huh? Oh….uh…..not very hungry, Hunk. sorry.”

Hunk nodded faintly as he got up, noting the color starting to appear high on Keith’s cheekbones.

“Maybe you should just, like...take it easy this afternoon?” he suggested, clearing the table. “Bond with your lion or something? Since we’ve got the time?”

“Yeah….maybe I will.”

“I might do the same,” Shiro agreed. “It’s a good suggestion, Hunk, thanks. Need any help in here, or…?”

“Nah, I’ve got this covered. You two go.”

 

Out in the hall, Shiro waited until they were a few hallways away from the kitchen before stopping to look out a window, giving Keith the chance to catch up with him. He felt the younger man’s forehead thunk against his back and chuckled softly.

“Not feeling good, huh?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“You could have just told Hunk. He’d understand better than anyone.”

“Mmmnph.”

“And he wouldn’t have minded. You know that.”

Keith mumbled at him, nuzzling in between Shiro’s shoulder blades. On bad days, Shiro thought about how Keith had done that before...all this. How back then, it was a bid for fun, usually wrestling or a spar. Now it was for comfort and reassurance, and he hated how even _that_ had been changed by Voltron.

Shiro felt Keith’s forehead hitch against his spine a couple of times, and winced. Was he trying not to _cry_? That was what it felt like. Had he missed something, in recent weeks? Some small slight from Allura, still getting used to Keith’s genetic legacy? Some argument with Lance that had turned from playful rivalry to nastiness? Some cultural misstep from Coran?

“Alright,” he sighed, turning around on the spot so that Keith’s forehead rested on his breastbone. “What’s eating you?”

Keith kept his head down, bangs swept out to one side, hugging himself. He hiccuped faintly.

“I can’t help if I don’t know,” Shiro coaxed. “Come on, we’ve got time today to figure it out, if you’ll let me. At least look me in the eye.”

Keith shivered, then raised his head.

Shiro briefly registered the sweat beading on Keith’s forehead and the way the only color in his face was feverish splotches on his cheekbones. He saw Keith swallow, but there was no time to do much else before Keith made another convulsive hiccuping motion that morphed into an actual retch in the middle.

Then his lunch came back up, all over Shiro’s chest, hot and thick, dripping down towards his thighs and soaking through his shirt. Shiro shuddered and bit back a string of curses as Keith hiccuped, then heaved again, sending a fresh wave of vomit down Shiro’s legs.

“ _Fuck_ , Keith, that’s…. _hhnnn_ , okay...okay, you’re okay…” He caught Keith as the younger man’s knees buckled, hauling him up by the armpits and slinging an arm across his shoulders for better support. Keith groaned and brought up even more. “ _Jesus,_ where is all this _coming from_?”

“S-s-sorry,” Keith managed. He belched wetly, and groaned, pressing his free hand to his stomach. “ _Hurts_ …”

“That’s what happens when you try to puke up a lung. Come on...let’s get you out of your uniform and into bed.”

It was a longer walk back to their rooms than Shiro would have liked, especially icne throwing up seemed to have taken all the fight out of Keith. He leaned heavily on Shiro, eyes half closed, trying to breathe evenly and occasionally muffling a wet burp in a shaking gloved hand.

Back in Keith’s room, Shiro found himself awkwardly undressing Keith, giving up halfway through and stripping out of his own soiled clothes before getting back to helping Keith. It was too difficult to help him while also trying not to let the mess on his front get anywhere else. Down to socks and underwear, he helped Keith out of his uniform and into pajama pants, a compromise between Shiro’s insistence that he have clothes on and Keith’s insistence that he was too hot to wear anything at all. Judging by the sweat on his skin and the heat coming off of him, his fever was rising in a hurry.

“Alright,” Shiro murmured, making sure Keith settled back against his pillows in a more or less comfortable position. “Try and get some rest. I’ll check and see what Hunk’s been giving the others and be back, okay?”

“Y-yeah…”

“You’ll be _fine_.”

 

But first...he needed clean clothes. Carrying the combined bundle of his and Keith’s dirty clothes under one arm, Shiro attempted to get back to his own room without getting caught mostly naked in the hall. He made it halfway there before hearing a startled squeak and a giggle. Fighting down the urge to swear, run or both at once, Shiro turned to find Allura standing behind him, blushing. And... _not_ looking away.

“Should I ask?” she managed.

“Keith’s sick,” Shiro sighed.

“ _Oh_ ….but what does... _oh…._ oh _dear_...so that explains the...ah…” She gestured vaguely at Shiro’s state of undress.

“Yeah. He...mostly got me…”

One thing he _hadn’t_ learned in the military was how to keep from blushing. He could keep a straight face, sure, but he felt the blush spreading from his hairline all the way down. Nothing like standing in front of a _princess_ in nothing but your socks and your day-off novelty boxers to make you feel like a complete idiot.

“....then I should let you go,” Allura said quickly. “My apologies. Have...have Lance and Pidge shown any improvement, or…?”

“Hunk’s seen more of them, but from what he said…..I think Keith’s a lot worse than either of them, and he’s the only one I’ve had a lot of time with so far…”

Allura nodded faintly. “Perhaps because of his...background? It could have an impact on how his body handles disease…”

Shiro considered this, discretely trying to shift his laundry bundle to protect his dignity somewhat. These were certainly not the tightest undergarments he owned, but they didn’t exactly fit _loosely_. If Coran was around he probably would have had an aneurysm over the impropriety by now. “That’s….actually that’s a good point...do you think Coran might know anything about it?”

“I suppose it’s possible...we have a great deal of information stored...are you trying to hide yourself?”

Shiro’s blush deepened. “Well _yes_.”

“Why? Are you aroused?” Allura cocked her head to the side. “You’ve never indicated any interest in having sex with me before.”

“I’m not a- just _no_ . But I’m mostly naked, I smell like vomit and you’re...you’re _you_. Coran would have a fit if he saw us out here. Look, I’m just...gonna go and...and change, could you ask him about Keith? Bye!”

Later he would groan over the awkwardness and very Lance-flavored comedy of the escape, but in the moment, all he cared about was getting to his door and diving inside before he burst a blood vessel from blushing.

 

Clean, dressed and feeling a little less ridiculous, Shiro checked in to find Keith asleep, steadily sweating through his sheets. At least there was no vomit in the empty storage cube he’d pulled over. He sighed quietly, then went to find Hunk.

The yellow Paladin was just down the hall, letting himself out of Lance’s room with an empty mug and a small towel.

“Hey, I thought you and Keith were going to the hangar. And….weren’t you wearing…” Hunk stopped and looked at Shiro. “Oh, he _didn’t_ …”

“He _did_ ,” Shiro sighed. “He’s asleep now, but his fever’s pretty high.”

“How bad? Can you tell?”

“ _Bad_ , I think. He’s sweating a lot, and really hot to the touch, but I’m not...I don’t know much about gauging how high it actually is just from touch. Could you…..would you mind…”

Hunk nodded. “I’ll go check on him. Really high, huh?”

“ _Really_ high,” Shiro agreed. “Is Pidge awake?”

“Yeah, you should go visit.”

 

Pidge was happy to have company, quietly curling against Shiro’s side and settling in to listen to him talk. Later, Shiro didn’t remember what he’d talked about, but Pidge had been happy to have him there, and had dozed off with their head in his lap.

After he extricated himself, Shiro went to find Hunk again.

Hunk was back in the kitchen, working on something that smelled like tea. He looked up as Shiro entered, smiled, and pointed at the kofi pot in the corner. “Hot and fresh. How was Pidge?”

“ _Exhausted_. Fell asleep while I was in there. Keith?”

Hunk shook his head. “ _Bad_. I got Coran in there to have a look. He’s looking up medicines we might be able to use to bring Keith’s fever down.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “He didn’t throw up while I was there, but he had cramps by the time Coran showed up. Could tell he was trying to play down how bad they were.”

Shiro sighed and stirred sweetener into his mug. “He _would_ , too. Allura...thought maybe it’s worse for him because he isn’t…”

“Entirely human? Coran too. He said that in the very least, it won’t hurt to look into it. Also had a few things to say about Earthling biology, but that’s nothing new.” Hunk sighed and poured his latest concoction through a strainer. “Lance still can’t keep much of anything down, so I’m going to try this...and maybe I’ll see if Keith can keep it down too, when he wakes up.”

Shiro nodded. “Thanks, Hunk. I haven’t...this isn’t the kind of thing I end up doing, very often. The nurse thing…”

“Not to worry, I _do_ end up doing it plenty. I swear, Lance wouldn’t have survived our first year at the Garrison if I didn’t know how to take care of people.” Hunk spooned up some of his latest concoction and sampled it, nodding to himself. “Okay, this might work. _Ginger_ isn’t really a thing in space, but I managed to dig up enough information on it that Coran worked up a profile of what it’s made of and we matched it to a couple of things we had on hand that should work about the same…”

“And you picked ginger because….why?”

“It’s good for settling your stomach. So’s peppermint, which was the first thing I tried- or something like it with the same chemical properties, at least. Lance prefers the peppermint-y stuff because it’s less awful if it comes back up, but it _did_ come back up, so...round two. Taste it?”

Shiro shook his head. “I don’t think I’d be the best judge, Hunk. Ginger was never my favorite thing back home.”

“Fair enough.” Hunk sighed and ladled his newest brew into a bottle. “If this doesn’t work I don’t know what to try next.”

“Maybe Coran will have come up with something by then,” Shiro offered.

“Yeah….I hope so.”

 

By evening, Lance had wrapped himself in a blanket and staggered into one of the common areas, curling blearily at one end of a couch while Shiro picked out a film to watch. Fictional entertainment tended to be fairly hard to grasp unless you were familiar with the culture of the world it came from, but documentary-style pieces were all but universal. With a translator applied to the ones that didn’t already have such treatment, they were an interesting and valuable tool for the paladins.

Pidge joined them soon after, curling against Shiro’s side with an exhausted huff, and Keith trailed in half an hour later. He tucked himself into Shiro’s other side, sharing Lance’s space and somehow not starting an argument with him over it. Shiro made sure the wastebin Hunk brought in was within reach of everyone he was buried under and settled in to watch. There was a brief shuffling of bodies as Hunk sat down, Lance moving long enough for his friend to settle before crawling into Hunk’s lap and apparently falling asleep.

Shiro raised an eyebrow at Hunk, who shrugged. “I’m warm, and he’s feverish. Always does this.”

“Scoot a little closer,” Shiro suggested. “We’ll get them all at once.”

Hunk blinked at him, startled, then grinned and ootched closer to Shiro. Keith mumbled faintly and moved as well, giving Pidge room to swap sides and cram themself in between Keith and Hunk. Keith ended up half across Shiro’s lap, but the position was comfortable enough that he began to relax.

Neither Shiro nor Hunk complained when the combined feverish heat of three paladins piled on them got to be a bit much. They both sweated through it in companionable silence, watching their film until Keith made a wet hiccuping noise against Shiro’s arm. Hunk and Shiro both looked at him, then at each other. Hunk began carefully trying to shift Pidge and Lance enough to free Keith’s lower body from the pileup.

Keith hiccuped again and groaned quietly, shifting to wrap his arms around his middle.

“Come on,” Shiro murmured, easing his hands under Keith to try and gently ease him upright. “Sit up a minute....”

“ _No_ ,” Keith mumbled, hugging himself tighter. “Shiro, I…..I d-don’t….”

“I know. But if you need to move fast, you’ll-”

Keith hiccuped a third time and gagged faintly, swallowing hard. He didn’t resist when Shiro levered him upright, leaning heavily into the older paladin’s shoulder with a soft groan. Shiro rubbed his back, murmuring quietly to him.

Hunk cautiously shuffled his lapful of Blue Paladin around, preparing for a fast shift of people- Keith’s legs were still tangled in Pidge’s and the additional blanket they were sharing, and one of Lance’s legs was in on the mess as well. It wasn’t going to end well if _anyone_ attempted to flee the couch.

“ _Hhk….._ H-hunk, wait,” Lance breathed, curling in on himself when Hunk started to lift him. “I…..I f-feel kinda… _ohgod_.”

He made a dive for the wastebin.

So did Keith.

Pidge whimpered and covered their ears.

Shiro and Hunk swore and moved to try and sort out the pileup. Keith had gotten the wastebin, but since Lance’s retching was unproductive save for excessive saliva, this wasn’t the disaster it could have been. Pidge whimpered again, a lower sound this time, and curled up in a ball where Hunk had gently shifted them into the corner of the couch.

“Shiro, do you know where- _oh_!”

“ _Not_ now,” Shiro said quickly, trying to get all of Keith’s hair out of the way. He only succeeded halfway, getting vomit on his hand, Keith’s hair and Keith’s cheekbone.

“Can...is there anything I…”

“ _Water_ ,” Hunk said, trying to get a better hold on Lance without grabbing his friend around the middle. “And a towel or something? Maybe more than- _ugh_.”

Lance managed to bring up a mouthful of vomit from some previously unknown depths, which splattered on the floor and Hunk’s leg. Keith groaned at the sound and retched again.

“ _Man_ , that’s a lot,” Hunk groaned, rubbing Lance’s back. “C’mon, take it easy.”

Keith made a sound halfway between a heave and a sob. Pidge shot to their feet, hand clamped over their mouth, and left the room at a run. Judging by the startled shout from Coran out there, Pidge didn’t make it.

“ _Everything_ at once,” Shiro sighed. “Why does it always have to be like this?”

 

It took the better part of an hour and a half to get all three ill paladins in bed and things cleaned up after the movie-watching incident.

Shiro didn’t remember the last time he’d been so glad he was _alone_ at night. Years at the Garrison had him accustomed to sleeping in rooms full of other people, and the small size of Earth’s spaceships meant sharing your personal space with your team every moment of a mission. Even now, in the Palace of Lions, the team was usually within shouting distance of one another. Tonight, though, he was grateful for the chance to stretch out in the peace and quiet and try to sleep.

 

\-------

There was no question that the team was taking another day off, come morning. A quick check in with everyone had confirmed that immediately. Shiro had met Hunk in the hall, carrying Lance slumped over his shoulder, the Blue paladin sound asleep and Hunk looking somewhere between fondly exasperated and annoyed.

“Uh….should I ask?”

“Big family, and a bunch of cousins,” Hunk sighed. “He started to freak out being on his own and feeling this bad, so he let himself into my room last night. I couldn’t throw him out…I’m gonna put him back to bed now- meet you at breakfast?”

“Yeah...I checked on the other two, they’re...really not in any condition to be getting out of bed. Especially Keith…”

“Fever?” Hunk sighed.

“Yeah…and he just...looks bad.”

“I wanna see if Coran came up with anything to help treat them...can you go check while I get Lance into bed? I’ll start breakfast when I get back.”

“Yeah, sure. Kofi?”

“Would I make breakfast with _out_?”

 

Unfortunately, Coran had _not_ made much progress with the treatment options, but he had come up with a fever reducer he was certain would work so long as whoever took it could keep it down, and had assembled a collection of spare waste bins, extra blankets and a supply of water pouches. Shiro hauled the collection up to the kitchen to discuss options with Hunk.

Hunk, miracle worker that he was, had a mug in Shiro’s hand before he was even fully in the door, already sweetened. Shiro shuffled his burden onto a counter and sank into a seat with his drink, making blissful mumbling noises into it.

“You’re so easy, sometimes,” Hunk chuckled, plunking a plate of something vaguely like scrambled eggs, but blue, down before him. It came with another of Hunk’s biscuits, and some sliced fruit. “Here. Eat up. We’re going to be playing nanny all day, unless…”

“Unless?” Shiro prompted, pulling his plate closer and sampling. The texture was a little weird, but it tasted like breakfast.

“Unless we try piling them all on each other like we did last night...which was awfully effective until Keith’s stomach started acting up. And if we put them somewhere with a little more maneuvering room, it shouldn’t be a problem. But it solves the issues of trying to keep warm and not wanting to be alone, and we can keep an eye on them easier.”

Shiro nodded thoughtfully. “That….that might work. Maybe in the lounge again? We could pull a couple of mattresses from storage….”

Hunk grinned. “We used to do that, back at the Garrison. Make a nest on the floor and game for hours…”

“....yeah, we’re doing that as soon as we’re done here, or we won’t get a minute to stop and breathe all day.”

 

Operation Nest was a success. With two mattresses fetched out of storage and a mound of extra blankets, plus the cushions from the couch they weren’t using as a back rest, Pidge, Keith and Lance settled together in one puppy-like heap of limbs and slept, leaving Hunk and Shiro to try and catch up on regular business around the Castle.

It took another two days before first Lance, then Pidge were back on their feet. Keith followed, shaky but recovering, and business around the Castle was expected to resume as usual.

The morning after Keith was back on his feet, all five paladins were crowded around the kitchen table, generally devouring Hunk’s first attempt at real bread and a sort of quick jam Lance had cobbled together the night before that was too good _not_ to eat by the spoonful.

“Too sweet?” Pidge asked Shiro, who was keeping to his kofi and bread without jam.

“Little bit,” he admitted. “But I’m not all that hungry.”

Pidge frowned, put their breakfast down and reached for Shiro, pressing a wrist first to his forehead, then to their own.

“ _You_ of all people know that’s not a reliable way to check temperature,” Shiro sighed, but he let Pidge do it.

“And _you_ of all people know that running yourself ragged is a good way to end up in trouble,” Pidge responded tartly. “And physical touch is enough to give an idea of whether or not a fever is likely. Which it _is.”_

“That bad?”

“ _Yes_ , that bad!”

Shiro wrinkled his nose at Pidge. “Hard to tell from my end. My temperature control’s always been bad.”

“Well it’s _bad_ and you’re going to bed.”

“I am _not_.”

“Yes you are, you need-”

“To not stare at the ceiling all day. I’ll do something stationary.”

“But-”

“How many times did your brother describe what he had to do to keep me contained if I was hurt or sick?” More times than Pidge cared to count, he was sure. Matt had bemoaned the task every single time...but he had always been there, and he never begrudged Shiro the care.

Pidge glowered at him. “ _Enough_. Fine. But you be good or I’ll sic Hunk on you.”

“What are we doing with me?” Hunk asked. “Shiro? Not eating?”

“Shiro’s _sick_ ,” Pidge said flatly. “He’s going to work on the bridge or something, so he doesn’t overextend.”

And just like that, everyone was looking at Shiro instead of at their breakfast. Shiro sighed heavily. “I feel okay. Not one hundred percent, but...okay. It’ll be fine if I’m careful.”

 

This did not stop the entire team from watching him a little too closely for the rest of the morning. Shiro did his best to ignore them, even when Hunk almost aggressively topped up his mug without him ever having to ask. Which was….something of a mixed blessing. He wasn’t feeling sick to his stomach yet, and the drink was keeping him awake when he felt draggy, but he wasn’t sure if he should keep drinking….nevermind that he was anyway.

He avoided everyone around lunchtime, keeping to his research and tracking Galra movements, and was rewarded, if you could call it that, with his stomach starting to roll and cramp shortly after everyone filtered back into his general vicinity.

 

About an hour later, Keith caught him stifling a belch in his palm, his free hand pressed against his belly as if that might help (it didn’t help).

“Nauseous?” he ventured. Shiro grimaced.

“....sort of?”

“How do you get ‘sort of’ nauseous?”

“You just _do_ , alright? It’s just- _hhk_.”

Keith danced backwards when Shiro lurched forward, casting about for a bucket or a wastebin or _anything_ . But he needn’t have bothered: Shiro’s shoulders rolled in a sharp heave, then another, but nothing came up. Panting, he slumped back in his seat and covered his eyes with a hand. “ _That’s_ how,” he croaked. “Just….just sort of. Not _enough_ , okay?”

Keith nodded uncertainty. “You….should maybe go to bed?”

“Not yet. Won’t help anyway. Lying down would be….it would be worse.”

 

The rest of the team kept an even closer watch on him over the next couple of hours. Shiro really wished they wouldn’t, because the burbling and cramping in his gut was resulting in a lot of belching and while they had all been at the Garrison and were all used to a complete lack of manners, it was still _weird_ how they all perked up briefly whenever he made a sound. And _more_ than perked up when a burp would turn into a dry heave right in the middle and he would lean over his knees, gagging, until the pressure of his stomach being pushed against his thighs was enough to force up another, wetter belch and he could relax back into his seat until the next one. Every time, he felt a little worse, and the fever had apparently risen to where he could pick up on it, because he was feeling hot and sticky and disgusting as well as generally ill.

Some time later, a thick, wet, acrid-tasting burp rolled across his tongue and he groaned faintly, slumping in his seat. “H-hey, Hunk?”

He wasn’t sure if Hunk had actually gotten to him _that fast_ or if he was imagining things, but the Yellow Paladin was beside him almost immediately. “Yeah?”

“I….” Shiro swallowed hard, then again when once didn’t feel like enough. “I’m going to throw up.”

Hunk hesitated. “Are...are you sure you need to puke? You’ve been dry heaving for, like...over an _hour_ …”

Shiro managed a nod. “ _Very_ sure.” Another belch rose in his throat and he grimaced, muffling it with a hand. “But- _urp_ \- I’m pretty sure my legs are going to give out the minute I try to get up, so….little help, here?”

Hunk did not look happy, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure. You….uh...do you want me to carry you, or…?”

“ _No_. I don’t….I don’t think that’s a good idea. Just….let me use you for a brace.”

“Alright….”

Shiro stood, feeling his legs tremble under the weight. When had it gotten _this_ bad? Hunk looped an arm around him and he put some of his weight against it with a soft murmur of thanks. Now he just had to get to a bathroom. He could do that. It wasn’t far.

He stumbled halfway across the room, jolting against Hunk’s side. His stomach lurched sharply, mouth filling with sour spit, and he _knew_ he didn’t have a chance now, but he had to try.

“Hunk, n-nevermind, just g-get me out of here,” he managed, plastering his free hand over his mouth. “ _Hrp_ …. _fast..._ ”

Not one to question in these kinds of situations, Hunk shifted his hold on Shiro, just enough to get the older Paladin’s feet off the ground, and bolted for the door.

To Hunk’s credit, they _did_ make it out. And a few steps further, before Shiro choked on the saliva pooling in his mouth, coughed, and retched instead. Hunk changed his hold before Shiro could really process it, supporting him from back and to the side, keeping both of them mostly out of range when Shiro retched again and brought up a flood of dark, watery vomit that splashed noisily on the floor.

“Shouldn’t’ve kept you drinking that,” Hunk sighed. “Get it up…”

Shiro heaved again, just as the rest of the team caught up, with enough force to send backsplatter pelting against his shins. And probably Hunk’s too. He heard the team making unhappy noises behind him, wanted to reassure them but another sharp retch had him jerking in Hunk’s hold, nearly falling flat on his face in the mess.

Then it was _over_ , his gut cramping viciously in the aftermath, his entire body soaked in sweat he hadn’t felt until just then. Panting, he let Hunk lift him into his arms and head off down the hallway. There was a time and a place for dignity….this was definitely _not_ it.

 

Sometime later, Shiro lay curled on his side in bed, gingerly cradling his stomach with one arm and wishing for something- _anything-_ that might get the cramping to ease up. Hunk had tried a few of the remedies he’d mixed up for the others, but nothing had stayed down long enough and now Shiro’s throat burned from throwing up. He was alone, for the time being, but it had taken some doing to get the whole team to go away for a bit, they’d been so intent on keeping an eye on him.

With them gone, he was free to hiccup, burp and groan as needed. Despite being empty, his stomach was still capable of producing a ridiculous number of noises, loud to his ears, and the cramps occasionally peaked high enough to draw whimpers from him. He had tried kneading cautiously at his stomach, hoping to ease the cramp the way he would with a muscle cramp anywhere else, but that had lead to dry heaving over the side of the bed. He was stuck with the ‘grin and bear it’ school of thought.

 

The door slid open, silhouetting Keith against the brighter light of the hall beyond. Shiro blinked blearily at him, wondering if he’d fallen asleep. He couldn’t tell.

“Still cramping?” Keith asked. “We might’ve come up with something to help.”

“Y-yeah,” Shiro managed, finding his throat dry to the point of his voice cracking. “What did you find?”

“You sound awful,” Keith murdered, padding inside. The door shut behind him. “Here...move your hand.”

Shiro had to crane his neck at a painful angle to get a look at the warm, soft thing Keith was settling against his aching, cramping stomach. Whatever it was, it was lurid green and the kind of almost-hot that sank into his tense, aching muscles. He managed a weak groan of relief, feeling them loosen a little. “Oh _god_ …”

“...is that a good ‘oh god’ or a bad one?”

“ _Good_ .” He pressed the thing closer and tried not to whimper as the cramping _eased_. “What is this?”

“Closest thing to a rice bag we could come up with, since the heatpacks weren’t enough for any of us. We all agreed that it ought to help with the cramps...I mean...hot body parts work too, Lance and Pidge both did that for me, but...you’re kind of in here alone and…no one’s running a fever except _you_ , so…”

“Hunk’s still alright?” Shiro asked.

“Hunk is probably going to be alright whenever this kind of thing happens,” Keith sighed. He perched on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair. “Hunk is _always_ alright when this stuff happens. I remember from the Garrison….everyone would be going down with this bug or that one around him, and he’d be right there in the middle of it all, totally fine….I think he got a cold once or twice while I was there, and that’s _it_. It’s like...his super power.”

“Suits him,” Shiro chuckled, and winced. Laughing _hurt_ . His whole core ached like he’d overworked it. Probably _had_ \- he knew what muscle strain felt like. At least it didn’t feel like he’s torn something, that would have _really_ sucked.

“It does, doesn’t it.”

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you...not sit down by my feet? I can’t see you without straining my neck.”

Keith leapt to his feet and scuttled to the head of the bed, a movement that would have made Shiro laugh if he wasn’t trying hard not to do so. He shifted around nervously a minute, until Shiro pushed himself up on one arm and shuffled himself down a little, leaving space at the head of the bed. “If...you want?”

“Um…” Keith hesitated, then sat in the space Shiro had made. “If...scrunching up like that hurts, you can lean on me,” he offered, scooting until his back hit the wall.

Shiro considered, then moved back, cautiously settling his head on Keith’s thigh. They’d sat like this plenty of times when they were younger, but it was always Keith in need of cuddling and a warm body to lean against. More often than not, it was Keith who had stressed himself into a fever or overdone it in physical training and needed comfort and someone to mind him, make him eat and stay hydrated. Shiro had coaxed more brightly colored sports drinks into Keith than he could easily count.

 _Ugh_ . Sports drinks. He’d always hated them, nevermind that they were occasionally useful. The vague, salty-sweet aftertaste left on his tongue had always been unpleasant at best, downright nauseating at worst, and- _shit._

Shiro scrabbled for the edge of the bed, lips pressed tightly together as he fumbled for the wastebin. It was out of reach, somehow, probably bumped away when he and Keith had shifted around, and he _wasn’t_ going to make it out of bed in time. Still, he clamped a hand over his mouth, jerking against it as fluid rose in his throat and he gagged.  He felt Keith leaning over the top of his head, swinging the bin more or less into his face just as liquid seeped between his fingers. Then he was leaning over it, slippery fingers clutching at the rim as he heaved desperately. He’d been sure that, after the hallway, his stomach was _very_ empty, but his body seemed determined to prove him wrong; thin, watery fluid splattered into the wastebin, dripping from his nose and lips, burning on the way up.

“ _Shit_ ,” Keith breathed, steadying the bin. “I thought...I mean...before, you...there was so _much…_.”

“Th-thought so t-t-to,” Shiro wheezed. “ _Jesus_ , I- _hllgck_!” More dripped from his nose, burning and filling his senses with the sharp, horrible smell. Shiro coughed, tried to swallow, heaved again and again until he felt like he must have just thrown up his own stomach lining. His vision started to go grey and spotty around the edges. The heaving tapered off after far too long, leaving him limp with exhaustion and aware of a dull ache around his eyes.

He let Keith roll him cautiously onto his side and lay there, trying to catch his breath and not pass out, while Keith wriggled out from under him and whisked the wastebin away. Something warm and wet cleaned slick/sticky puke from his hand, and something else, equally wet but much, much cooler- or was that the fever?- mopped at his face.

“ _Oh.._.uh-oh….Shiro?”

“Hhnk?”

“I’ve gotta go get Hunk, okay? I don’t...he probably knows everything there is to know about throwing up and...yeah. I need him to check on you real quick. Just...stay put. The thing’s right there if you need it. I’ll be _right back_.”

“‘Kay,” Shiro mumbled. It took most of the energy he had not to just pass out on the spot, and now he was going to have to _stay_ awake until Keith got back, or there would be panic. He _knew_ that tone, the tightness in Keith’s voice that said he was one misstep away from freaking out entirely. He wasn’t going to be the cause of that. He _wasn’t_.

 

The door opening to admit Hunk and Keith startled him into a full-body jerk that left him clutching his stomach, moaning queasily into his pillow as whatever his stomach thought it still had in it tried to escape.

“ _Jeez_ , Keith, this is...okay. We can handle this.”

Hunk’s hand on his forehead was considerably steadier than Keith’s, and was quickly followed by the smooth roll of something that felt like plastic. Something in the general vicinity of his ear beeped twice, and Hunk swore. Shiro was vaguely impressed. Hunk hardly ever swore, and when he did it was usually something mild, but this was the sort of paint-blistering string of expletives he’d expect from a fellow soldier. He would have been a lot more impressed if the swearing hadn’t been about him.

“....Hunk?” Keith ventured.

“Unless I’m doing the math wrong- which I’m _not_ \- he’s running a fever so close to 104 that it might as well _be_ 104\. Which is _bad_ , by the way.”

“I _know_ it’s bad, but….”

“But what?”

“I brought you in here to look at his face.”

“His _face_ ? What about his- here, Shiro, let me see…..turn towards m- _whoa_ . Oh _man_ …”

“What?” Shiro croaked. He cringed, feeling Hunk’s fingers touching the inexplicably tender skin around his eyes. “ _Hsst_...ow…what happened?”

“You puked so hard you busted some capillaries around your eyes,” Hunk explained. “And gave yourself what’s starting to look like a pair of spectacular shiners. Tender already?”

“Y-yeah…”

“I’ll see what I can do for that, but it’s probably gonna have to fade on its own.” Hunk sighed. “Okay. Keith, I need you to go get stuff for me.”

“But I-”

“You said I’m the puke expert, and you’re right. So I need you to get things for Shiro.”

Keith nodded. After Hunk rattled off a short list of items for him to find, he hurried away. The door slid shut. Hunk crouched at the head of the bed with a heavy sigh. “ _He’s_ going to worry himself sick.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be. _I’m_ sorry this is hitting you so hard. Even Keith’s fever didn’t get so high, and no one’s stomach was _that_ bad.”

“‘S still….” Shiro swallowed down a worryingly thick burp. “...still pretty bad…”

Hunk nodded and rummaged out of Shiro’s line of sight. A moment later, something cold was pressed against the back of his neck. The initial shock made him gasp, but the chill calmed his stomach somewhat.

“Whu?”

“Ice pack. Your fever isn’t helping with the stomach stuff- heat usually makes nausea worse, y’know? So putting a cold cloth or an ice pack or whatever on the back of the neck helps, because it’s a sort of central location. Good for fever, too, and you’ve got _that_ in spades.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time. Man, your throat sounds like it’s a complete wreck…”

“Prolly is…”

“Want to try getting a little water down? It’ll help with the pain, at least, and the taste.”

He absolutely did _not_ want to try getting a little water down, but it was probably a good idea.

“And a tissue?” he asked hopefully.

“It came out your nose?”

“....yeah.”

“Here.”

Blowing his nose helped, though it briefly renewed the overwhelming stench, and it was good to rinse his mouth out. Hunk coaxed him into taking a few sips of water. The soothing effect it had on his throat was almost worth the stomach cramps that amped back up afterwards. When Keith came back, Shiro was back to being tightly curled on his side, hugging himself.

“I got everything...Pidge wants to know what's going on.”

“I’ll explain when I leave. Hand me the green jar?”

Keith gave Hunk a small green jar, which Hunk popped open. It quickly became clear that the color was from the goo inside, not the jar itself, because he dabbed his fingers in it, then began smearing it gently around Shiro’s eyes. Whatever it was, it was cool and a little tingly, and it smelled almost as green as it looked.

“What _is_ that?” Keith asked, peering over Hunk’s shoulder.

“Bruise balm,” Hunk explained. “Shay gave me the recipe. Can’t use the pods for everything, and most of the medications we take for granted back home aren’t a _thing_ for Alteans, so...this is for all the bumps and bruises and things I pick up. Works really well, which is great because the last time I took a painkiller Coran suggested, I ended up lying on the hangar floor, laughing at the butterflies.”

“Feels good,” Shiro said quietly, eyes closed as Hunk finished painting the goo around his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help. Now that _that’s_ done...let’s see about working on your fever.”

  


By morning, Shiro had the entire team camped out in his bedroom. Not that he could blame him. As the night wore on, his fever held steady and his stomach….didn’t. Hunk and Pidge coaxed tea and broth and water into him, and a little bit of bread at one point, and it all came back up. The point, they both insisted, was to help keep the cramps and dry heaving from being too nasty- when his stomach was empty, both were much, _much_ worse. Coran offered a fever reducer at one point, which Shiro took with Hunk’s broth and a prayer. It stayed down longer than anything else had, but ended in the first bout of projectile vomiting he had ever experienced in his life.

He ended the night curled in a tight ball on the bed, head pillowed in Keith’s lap while the Red Paladin stroked his hair, taking his turn awake to mind Shiro’s fever in the hope that it might break. So far, it hadn’t, and Hunk had been making grumbling noises about how high and how long.

The door slid open, throwing light on the messy sprawl of limbs all over the floor. Allura stood in the doorway, wringing her hands. “Any improvement?” she asked softly.

Keith shook his head. “Still high. It got higher around midnight...and he’s thrown up twice since then…”

“Yes, Coran said the fever reducer didn’t help…”

“He couldn’t keep it down.”

“Hunk was explaining that this fever is dangerously high for a human?”

“It is, yeah. If we were back home, he’d be in a hospital, probably on an IV, but...you don’t use IVs…”

“We could...contact the Blade of Marmora?” Allura suggested. “This seems so much more serious than it was with the rest of you...the Castle’s databases are so very out of date, and this was never meant for any kind of in-depth medical treatments...they _must_ have some idea as to how we can treat…”

“It _is_ more serious,” Pidge said quickly, sitting up and putting their back against the side of the bed. “But it’s the same symptoms: fever, vomiting, cramps...all if it is just... _more so_. We all had a fever, Keith even had a pretty high one, but none of us had one high enough to cause a panic. Everyone threw up, everyone was hurting...but…” They looked over at Shiro, who was, for the time being, getting a little fitful sleep. “But it’s hitting him a lot harder. I think we should contact the Blade. There has to be something.”

“I’ll go do that.” Allura turned to go, looking back at the Paladins arranged on the floor. “If you need _anything_...tell me. It’s...it’s good of you all to stay with him.”

“I’ll come with you,” Keith offered. “So it’s not just you asking. They should...they’ll respond better if it’s me.”

“Oh, but...you don’t have t-” Allura began, but Keith was already moving, transferring Shiro’s weight to Pidge as the Green Paladin scooted up to take his place. Shiro groaned quietly, prompting everyone to freeze a moment, but he settled easily enough against Pidge.

 

By a stroke of luck, there was a Blade outpost within easy jumping distance. Less than two hours later, Hunk strode cautiously out of the Castle, surrounded by nervously orbiting paladins, Shiro in his arms. Shiro had attempted- twice- to walk on his own, but he hadn’t managed more than a handful of steps either time. The first try Keith had caught him as his legs gave out, but the second time he’d nearly knocked himself out on a door frame.

They were met by a small cluster of medical staff and, to everyone’s surprise, Kolivan, standing nearby looking displeased. Keith went straight to him.

“You _cannot_ call upon the Blade of Marmora for any small-” Kolivan began.

“This could _kill_ him,” Keith said flatly. “A fever this high by _itself_ can kill a human. We don’t have anything to treat him- the Castle’s database it out of date and Altean medicine doesn’t work the same way. We’ve done everything we know how to do already.”

“Yet the majority of your team has contracted this illness and survived?”

“Everybody but Hunk,” Keith confirmed.

“Hnn…”

Keith looked back at a sharp, wet sound and found the cluster of Galra parting to allow Hunk to shift his hold on Shiro. Their leader was hanging over Hunk’s arm, retching noisily over the barest splatter of bile and water now decorating the floor. Kolivan shifted beside Keith, arms crossing.

“Very well.”

 

To the relief of the remaining 4 paladins, Shiro was settled into a bed in a small, quiet room, with enough space for the rest of them to cram inside and not be in the way as an aide set up monitoring equipment, explaining it all in a quiet murmur to Pidge and Hunk. The minute another aide padded in with something that was _clearly_ an IV, all four of them relaxed slightly.

Getting it _into_ Shiro was an entirely different problem. Exhausted he might have been, but the first prick of the needle had him fighting and cursing, struggling to get away from the restraining hands of both aides.

“ _Stop_ ,” Keith said quickly. “It’s...it’s because you’re Galra. Can one of us put it in?”

That got him a lot of raised eyebrows. He looked at his teammates, then back at the aide with the needle. “He...uh...lost that arm when he was a prisoner of Zarkon...when they had him fighting for show? It might be better if it’s not a Galra trying to do it.”

The aide hesitated, then nodded and looked around, letting the other aide slip out of the room. “Which of you has the steadiest hands?”

Keith stepped back, shoving shaky hands in his pockets. “Definitely not me.”

Hunk and Pidge traded looks, clearly about to volunteer, when Lance stood up. “Me. I can do it.”

“Lance,” Hunk began, but Lance shook his head.

“I’ve got the steadiest hands. Sniper, remember? And I’ve helped people with needles before. Two diabetics in my family- they showed us all how to handle this stuff.” He looked at the aide. “You can talk me through it?”

“I can. Come here, by me, and I will move out of his range of view.”

“I’ll help,” Hunk murmured, standing. “Keep behind me.” He sidled between the aide and Lance, using his body as a shield.

With the aide hidden and giving instructions from behind Hunk, Shiro settled, blearily murmuring to Lance as the Blue Paladin deftly inserted the needle and set up the drip. As soon as it was finished, the aide vanished, leaving the team to rearrange themselves and try not to stare at their leader.

 

A little while later, Pidge slipped out as well, hunting for information. Shiro had fallen asleep, flesh hand fisted in the blanket over him, his other arm thrown over his face, likely in protest of being forced to sleep on his back- every time he had tried to roll over to get more comfortable, someone had rolled him right back over again.

“....do you think he caught something different?” Lance asked quietly, eyeing Shiro. “There’s a ton of things that can give you a fever and make you throw up, back home…”

“Could be,” Hunk agreed. “It would make sense…”

“At least he’s getting some rest…”

“Pretty sure he’s _sedated_ ,” Keith muttered. “He wouldn’t have relaxed so quickly otherwise.”

“Probably for the best...he’s exhausted,” Hunk pointed out. “And he was getting confused- he wouldn’t have tried to fight the nurses if he was thinking straight.”

“They should have told us what it was, first.”

“I think they were a little more concerned with getting him taken care of _first_ , and I appreciate that they did it that way.”

Pidge breezed in then, carrying an unfamiliar tablet and trailing the aides again.

“They’re going to try and get some...sort of nutrient paste into Shiro,” they explained. “And I talked to the doctor.” The others crowded around, through Keith positioned himself so that he could watch the aides tending to Shiro, in case he needed to step in. “So that IV has an antipyretic and a really mild sedative, and they’re going to add some other things in a little while- I updated them on the electrolytes and things humans need. And they have a blood sample they’re testing, to see if they can identify whatever he has.”

There were nods all around. Keith stopped mid-nod, cringing as one of the aides began massaging Shiro’s throat to help with administering the nutrient paste. Shiro had roused at the activity, making frustrated, sleepy sounds as he was tended to, but he wasn’t fighting. Granted, he didn’t have his eyes open either, which might have helped.

Hunk winced as well. “That can’t be fun…”

“With a stomach bug, it’s not safe for him to have a tube,” Pidge sighed. “And it’s partially the same goal we had with making him drink tea and stuff- he’ll do more damage with nothing to throw up.”

“It still looks awful…”

The aides retreated, leaving Shiro to mutter and try to curl again, forcing Hunk to get up and gently pin him until he fell asleep.

Another Galra, this one looking considerably less nervous around the team, slipped inside shortly after, carrying a tray of supplies. He didn’t go to Shiro’s bed, turning instead and approaching the paladins.

“Blood samples,” he said firmly. “From all of you.”

“ _No_ ,” Keith growled.

“Why?” Hunk asked, putting a hand on Keith’s arm. “What do you need it for?”

“It has been reported that the majority of your team has contracted this illness and survived it. It may be necessary to analyze the antibodies in your blood, particularly those of you who are fully human, if basic treatments fail to produce a positive result. Therefore, I require blood samples.”

“Even from me?” Hunk looked around at his friends. “I haven’t been sick…”

“It is possible you were asymptomatic and incubated the illness unharmed. You first.”

 

It didn’t take long, and the doctor was gone again, leaving them to all absently rub at the little puncture sites and watch Shiro, breathing quietly behind them. It was quiet in the room, and the lights were dim. Lance was the first to fall asleep. Pidge followed, and eventually even Keith dozed off, all of them propped up in some way against Hunk, who sat awake in the dimness.

Thus, it was Hunk who flung everyone off him, hours later, as he made a dive for the bed to catch Shiro before he bailed out of bed entirely. In the chaos of tangled bodies that followed, Hunk got Shiro upright in time for him to vomit up a thick slurry of nutrient paste and water all over the bedclothes and himself.

“I’ll get someone,” Pidge volunteered, and hurried out of the room, hopping over Lance on their way. Keith gained his feet and went to help Hunk, snatching up a wastebin that had, rather unhelpfully, been on the other side of the bed. He got this under Shiro’s chin in time for him to gag again, shoulders jerking, and bring up even more of the unnervingly beige fluid.

“At...least it’s doing what it’s supposed to be doing?” Hunk said weakly, shifting to get one arm around Shiro from behind to better support him. “ _Man_ that’s...messy…”

“It would be _better_ if he wasn’t puking at _all_ ,” Keith muttered, bracing the wastebin. Shiro had roused enough to hang onto it himself, but the blanket in his lap was slippery and it was safer to have someone _not_ feverish and exhausted keeping the wastebin upright.

 

By the time Pidge returned with an aide, Lance had gotten the soiled bedclothes bundled up at the end of the bed and Keith had carefully set the wastebin aside. Shiro slumped heavily against Hunk, panting hoarsely.

“Was there any blood?” the aide asked, going to inspect the contents of the wastebin.

“None,” Hunk murmured. “He just….started gagging in his sleep. I sat him up before he could throw up and choke on it.”

“A wise decision,” the aide murmured. “Shiro? Can you hear me?” Shiro blinked blearily at him and nodded slowly. “Good. Now, you need cleaned up. Can you speak?”

“I can,” Shiro croaked. He winced. So did the aide.

“But it’s best if you don’t, from the sound of it. Holt? Bring the cloths, please.”

Everyone cast a curious glance at Pidge as they carried a shallow basin of water and cleaning cloths over to the bed. They shrugged, allowing the aide to take a cloth and get to work on Shiro. “‘Pidge’ is kind of a rude word in Galran, so…”

“Less rude and more derogatory,” the aide explained, briskly wiping Shiro’s neck and chest clean. “Especially when using it to refer to the young. As it has been explained to me, your species often uses the family name when referring to those one does not know well, which suits the situation. Lift your chin…”

Shiro submitted to the cleaning with only a cursory mutter of discomfort, allowing the aide to inspect the rest of him for any splatters Lance might have missed. There were none, though his shirt was a complete loss. The aide checked his temperature, made a tutting noise, and inspected the drip, murmuring quietly to himself.

“Time is it?” Shiro rasped.

“Do it matter?” Keith asked, attempting to finger comb Shiro’s hair out of his face. It was sticky with sweat and not cooperating.

“How long has it been?”

“A little over twelve hours,” Hunk murmured. “You want another shirt?”

Shiro shook his head a little, and winced. “‘S too hot…”

“That’s the fever talking,” Keith pointed out. “But they’re going to replace the blankets, so if you get cold…”

“‘S fine.” Shiro eyed the aide approaching with clean blankets. “....how many different people have been in here?”

“Five, plus us,” Pidge admitted. “So far, anyway.”

“Recognize ‘em all?”

“I could,” Pidge promised. “It’s okay. We’re as safe as we’re going to be.”

“Okay,” he sighed, drooping against Hunk. “That’s...that’s good.”

“You stop worrying,” Lance murmured. “We’ve got this covered.”

 

Cleaned up and having been given a little water to sip, Shiro curled into Hunk’s side and slept again, not even rousing when the aide returned to change the IV. Slowly, the paladins grouped up around him again and settled in to sleep once more.

 

It was still far too early by the team’s standards when the doctor came in and set to cautiously rousing them all.

“What is it?” Pidge yawned, curling tighter to avoid Lance as the lanky young man stretched.

“Blood samples,” the tall, comically slender Galra murmured. “From all of you. Again. As soon as possible.”

His tone brought the team to wakefulness immediately. They all sat up, then, as one, moved to the other side of the room. Hunk came last, gently positioning Shiro in a comfortable sprawl after the bodies supporting him were out of the way. As one, they formed up in a tight knot around the doctor, who looked understandably concerned as his escape route was blocked by Hunk’s body. Four arms were extended at once. The doctor swallowed.

“....perhaps….outside?” he managed. Tall and Galra he might be, but it was clear that the proximity of Voltron, combined with whatever news he had, was making him very nervous.

The team moved out of the room, taking the doctor with them in their midst like a boat on a wave.

Out in the hall, as the door slid closed, they fixed him with silent stares. He swallowed, looked at them all, and jammed long-fingered hands into his pockets. “Your leader has Radmacher’s Disease. It would appear that the three of you recovered from it, and that you-” he indicated Hunk, “- either were asymptomatic or have not contracted it at all, despite sharing living space, personal space, bodily fluids, air and food with the rest. I require more blood samples to confirm that there was no contamination and…” He hesitated. “To determine why it is that the three of you survived, so that we may have a better of idea of how to save him.”

 _Survived_.

“Radmacher’s Disease is...usually fatal?” Pidge asked quietly.

“In the species known to contract it, yes, it is a commonly fatal illness,” the doctor murmured. “Most notably amongst the Galra, which explains your report that _you_ -” he indicated Keith “- were considerably more ill than your companions.”

“But Shiro isn’t Galra,” Keith objected. “He’s not. He’s human.”

“His arm isn’t,” Hunk murmured. “And it channels energy from _somewhere_ …”

“Altered quintessence?” the doctor suggested. “It’s possible that would...cause some differences. We know that the variation used by the Fleet is fundamentally altered…”

Pidge and Hunk nodded. Keith and Lance tried not to look confused.

“Me first,” Keith said quietly. “If it’s because of Galra tech that he’s-” _dying_ “-got it so badly, then I’m the best shot. Right?”

“If you would agree to coming down for a more indepth draw, it would be helpful,” the doctor agreed. “Your assessment is correct.”

“I’ll come with him,” Hunk offered, tone firm despite the entire team knowing how uncomfortable blood made him. “If it’s going to be….um...a lot. The draw, I mean.”

“It would be best,” the doctor agreed. “I will send someone to draw from the two of you.” He looked back at the door, brow furrowed. “I had understood that your species did not pack bond, but…”

“Pack...bond?” Lance asked. The doctor gestured vaguely. “Yeah, I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“You...touch one another. Sleep on top of each other. Function as a unit outside of combat situations. You exchange physical contact for comfort and reassurance, rather than only in aggressive or sexual situations. You...function. As a pack.”

“Is this a Galra thing?”

The doctor’s ears flicked briefly. “It is common among many species, but never observed in adult humans. If...if you truly are bonded, it would be beneficial for the rest of you to remain with him. In contact with him, if possible.”

“Human infants can die if they aren’t touched often enough, or the proper way,” Pidge said quietly. “And adults can be...touch-starved. But there’s centuries of social constructs in place to convince us that humanity is supposed to function well on being alone, or with a single romantic partner. We don’t have those constructs out here, so...it’s natural for us to behave the way we’re...ah...programmed.”

The rest of the team stared at Pidge, but the doctor nodded, looking pleased. “ _Excellent_. Maintain contact and proximity inasmuch as he will allow. It will be greatly beneficial. You two, come with me.”

As he strode down the hallway with Keith and Hunk behind him, Pidge heard him ask Hunk, in a much brighter, more interested tone, “Are you truly named ‘Hunk’? As I understand it, both in my language and in yours, that is a word used for...a large piece of something. Not a name in the usual sense…”

Hunk laughed, and was explaining as the rounded a corner and were gone.

Pidge looked at Lance. “I...think we can both fit on the bed with Shiro, so long as we’re careful of the IV line.”

Lance nodded. Together, they slipped back into Shiro’s room and climbed into his bed, a big bed made for people from a larger race. They curled on either side of him, bracketing his body. Lance told himself he was just imagining things to comfort himself, but he thought he felt Shiro relax a little.

  


Some time later, Hunk returned with Keith sagging in his arms, making sleepy noises when he was shifted. Pidge, still awake against Shiro’s side, made worried sounds until Hunk settled Keith at the end of the bed.

“He fell asleep while we were waiting to be released,” he explained. “He’s exhausted. But he’s alright. While we were in there, the doctor said there’s traces of Galra DNA- or whatever they have that’s like DNA- mixed in with Shiro’s. Right now the best guess is that because Keith was born half Galra, not made that way after the fact, his body adapted to the environment he was raised in and human’s more...dominant. In Shiro, he doesn’t have the advantage of a human-only environment _or_ a natural balance in his genetic makeup. So he’s...having more of a Galra response to this Radmacher’s Disease than a human one.”

“That….makes sense,” Pidge admitted thoughtfully. “And it makes even more sense when you consider the whole...pack-bonding thing.”

“You got to read up on it?” Hunk pulled a chair up close and propped himself up on the side of the bed.

“Mostly in context to the Galra, but yeah. It’s….it’s a _really_ complicated mess, but it’s insanely important. There’s a little out there about how Zarkon even used it to manipulate his armies. Some stuff about how soldiers were only allowed bonding with their officer and a handful of others, and that was taken away immediately for punishment. It’s such a part of their culture that it worked as a control mechanism. When they aren’t...you know, military? Social groups and friends and things all touch each other regularly. They groom, too. Even strangers, if the situation calls for it.” Pidge managed a small smile. “They’ve been...they’ve been a lot more comfortable with us since they saw us all cuddled together, that’s for sure.”

Hunk nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense, yeah. Kind of sweet, y’know?”

Pidge nodded in agreement, then looked up as several Blade members, including Kolivan, sidled through the doors with what looked like part of a bed in their hands. Wordless, they leaned it against the far wall, removed the abandoned chairs, and left again. Within the space of perhaps fifteen minutes, they carried in several more pieces. Kolivan vanished, leaving the remaining Blade members to silently assemble what was _definitely_ a very large bed on something like a platform instead of the wheeled support Shiro’s bed was on.

An aide padded in with Kolivan, moving to the bed without bothering to dodge the big warriors milling around the room- they got out of her way. She approached Hunk, patting gently at his shoulder. “We will move you now,” she murmured. “All of you.”

“What? Why?”

“This is a nesting bed,” she murmured, gesturing to the new construction. “We have it in case of a birth, but...it is large enough to hold all of you comfortably, and the closeness has already had a positive effect on his vitals. And it is clear that you are all in need of rest regardless. Move your bondmates, and then I will help you move your leader.”

Hunk nodded, gently shaking his friends awake and prompting them over to the nesting bed. With them out of the way, he lifted Shiro, sidling around with the aide  all but glued to his hip with the IV in hand. Together, they settled Shiro in the middle of the new bed, propped up on cushions. He was promptly surrounded by paladins, leaving Hunk to hop up on one side and lean cautiously into the padded supports at the back of the bed. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Did it...was us being close really helping?”

The aide nodded. “It did. There was a marked difference. Which suggests which way his...ah...additions are leaning.” She flicked an ear momentarily, then offered Hunk a very small smile. “If he had to have any part of our people, he could do much worse than pack bonding, particularly with such loving, attentive bondmates. He is fortunate to have you all.”

“We’re lucky to have him too,” Hunk agreed. “Thank you.”

The aide nodded, padding away with the bulk of the Blade members behind her. Kolivan remained for a moment, watching the paladins shift and settle around Shiro, who hadn’t woken in the move. Hunk looked up at him.

“Did you...uh...need something?”

“...bare your skin,” Kolivan said quietly, arms tightly crossed. “It is more effective.”

“... _oh_. Okay, uh...okay. We can do that. You...um...you’ve...done this?”

Kolivan’s ears flicked back for a moment, brow furrowing. Then he stepped forward, reaching for where Keith was drowsily trying to get his shirt off. He stripped the garment off Keith with an obviously practiced movement, ignoring the startled squawk of protest. “It was the difference between my daughter surviving this, and my sons...not. It has saved more lives since. You are, at best, three quarters Galra amongst you. You will require all the advantage you can get.”

Knowing better than to argue the sudden stripping, Keith helped Lance wrestle out of his own shirt without leaving the pileup. Undressing Pidge was left up to Pidge, but Hunk held still and allowed his nervous teammates to get his shirt off as well. Almost immediately, Shiro turned in his sleep, nuzzling blearily into Hunk’s bared shoulder. Kolivan nodded minutely.

“It will do,” he said shortly, and made himself scarce.

The whole pileup slept again. Even Hunk for a change, leaving Allura to creep in in the middle of the ‘night’ cycle with a Blade escort and sit quietly in the corner, watching her paladins.

 

\---

When the simulated morning came, Shiro’s temperature was somewhat lower than it had been, Pidge had finally given up on modesty and stripped down to undergarments entirely (sandwiched as they were at the heart of a pile of very warm bodies), and Hunk was trying to disentangle himself from his friends. He freed himself only by kicking Lance- who was thankfully used to that kind of manhandling from the Garrison- scrabbled off the bed and bolted out the door.

By the time the door reopened, everyone on the bed except Shiro was awake, Lance nursing his bruised side, and watching for Hunk’s return. He came back in supported by a much put-upon looking Kolivan.

“Sick?” Lance asked quietly, reaching to help pull Hunk back onto the bed. Hunk grunted unhappily at him and allowed a minimum of fussing from Lance and Pidge as blankets were rearranged.

“He is ill,” Kolivan confirmed, watching the fussing and shifting as Hunk was drawn more completely into the pile. “Someone will come to monitor him shortly.”

“He threw up?” Pidge asked.

“He vomited copiously, yes.”

Everyone, even Allura and Keith, sighed. Keith got up entirely, nimbly clambering over Hunk in order to scoot the Yellow Paladin into the middle, against Shiro’s side. Hunk did not argue; he only mumbled faintly and shifted where he was bid.

Kolivan watched them silently, noting how they all settled, then looked at Allura. “It would do you all good if you joined them,” he pointed out. “Allow them to tend to other needs of the body.”

Allura flushed slightly. “Oh, I...I don’t know if I would be any help…”

“Your species bred easily with the Galra, and you are important to them. Your presence alone is helpful, but being physically a part of this would also be beneficial. And it will allow them to care for themselves.” He looked at the pile again. “Which they are neglecting to do.”

The news that her paladins weren’t taking care of themselves got Allura moving. Muttering under her breath, she wriggled out of her top and boots, leaving a thin, cropped undergarment and pants when she climbed cautiously into the nest and tried to settle.

She was surprised to have Lance, Keith and Pidge all shift to accommodate her at once, and Hunk moved as well, leaning into her side. Allura squeaked, then carefully put an arm around so he could lean more comfortably.

“At least one of you should go move around a bit, and find something to eat,” she murmured, looking at Pidge. “I would suggest bringing something in here, but…”

Hunk groaned and shook his head. “ _Please_ , no, I don’t think I could deal with that…”

“Exactly. So perhaps you should all take a turn?”

The three shared a look. Then both Lance and Pidge gave Keith a small shove. He frowned, resisting at first, but relented and slid off the bed.

“You’re a Blade,” Lance pointed out. “You can figure out where stuff is easier than we can.”

Pidge nodded. “Once you know, you can tell us and we shouldn’t have trouble with getting into things we shouldn’t. And, you know, getting chased out of places we shouldn’t be.”

Keith nodded, shuffling back into his uniform. He paused to look at Hunk. “You...need anything?”

“Water?” Hunk asked hopefully. “Or something to put in it? I can taste the filter unit they use.”

Keith nodded again and slipped out of the room, Kolivan behind him. As the door slid closed, Hunk shifted onto his side, tucking more comfortably into Allura, and pulled a pillow over his head. “Wake me up if anything happens,” he groaned, and apparently went back to sleep.

 

This was how the morning went. Keith returned in time to almost collide with Hunk as the much bigger paladin scrambled for the wastebin to throw up. Lance went for food, Hunk went back to sleep, and when Lance returned, it was Shiro’s turn to scrabble for the bucket, though admittedly he had next to nothing to bring up.

When evening rolled around, Kolivan returned on the tail of the nervous doctor. They found Shiro and Hunk buried in a heap of bodies. Sometime during the day, Allura had given up entirely on the semblance of modesty and had fetched a pair of tiny shorts from the castle. Pidge wore much the same. In the middle of them, Shiro snored and Hunk made small, sleepy sounds.

Kolivan shook Keith awake, deflecting the startled punch Keith swung his way and allowing the doctor to rouse the remaining members of the pileup.

“I have a treatment for your leader,” he explained, holding up a syringe so familiar in construction that it looked out of place in his hand. “Not a cure, I’m afraid, but it ought to help his body combat the virus. If it doesn’t, it won’t do him any harm.” He eyed Shiro, who was still very much asleep. “....in the thigh, perhaps? I can’t imagine putting this in his arm will be….welcome.”

“I’ve got it,” Lance yawned, reaching. “In the muscle?”

“Yes.”

“Mmhm. Can do. Keith, hold him?”

Keith nodded, shifting into a position that would allow him to pin Shiro, if the need arose. Lance watched him, then pushed the leg of Shiro’s shorts up and eased the needle in when the doctor nodded.

Shiro woke up.

Keith managed to wrestle him down, with a little help from Pidge, but not before Lance had been kicked hard a couple of times and summarily removed from the bed entirely.

“ _Shiro_! Shiro, it’s okay, it was just a shot.” Keith had Shiro in something like a headlock, doing what he could to keep the Black Paladin’s upper body still, lest he tear the IV out. “You’re sick, remember? The shot is going to help.”

“ _Hhnk_? K’th?”

“Yeah, that’s me….can you chill out before you kick someone else off the bed?”

Shiro frowned, craning his neck to see over Pidge and their death grip around his waist. “Hnn? L’nce?”

“‘M fine,” Lance promised from the floor. “Got it out ‘fore it could break under the skin, too.”

“He’s fine,” Keith said firmly. “Can I let you go now?”

“But….Galra…”

“We’re with the Blade of Marmora, remember? Hunk carried you in.”

“...oh…...y-yeah…”

Keith sighed and stroked Shiro’s hair, loosening his hold until Shiro slumped down again, breath starting to even out. “Alright...I think it’s okay to come back up, Lance.”

Lance stood, handing the empty syringe back to the doctor, who had taken several steps back and still looked ready to flee at a moment’s notice. “He’s out again?” he ventured.

“Looks like it.”

“‘Kay. Thanks, doc.”

The doctor vanished, leaving Lance to carefully clamber back onto the bed and settle against Hunk, who snorted briefly, threw an arm over him, and hauled him in even closer. Lance might have squeaked. Allura giggled.

“You’re all so good at this,” she remarked. “Are you sure it isn’t common on your planet?”

“It is with kids,” Pidge admitted. “And….well, I dunno about the regular military, but at the Garrison you get used to sharing small spaces and cuddling up for warmth…”

“ _Theatre people_ ,” Lance added. “And dance too. Before I got to the Garrison the dance teams I was on always, like, piled up together.” Keith shifted to stare at him, and Lance grinned. “What, you thought I was _born_ this graceful?”

“You _danced_? Competitively?”

“Dude, I have _medals_. I got to nationals three times across the teams I was on.” Lance raised one hand, twisting and wiggling it in a way that was oddly lovely. “I love dance.”

“And _I_ love when you don’t talk in my _ear_ ,” Hunk groaned. “Come _on_.”

\----

By the following evening, Hunk was already on his way to recovery, a fact that had a small group of Galra medics following him on his unsteady way down the hall with Pidge, peppering him with questions about his resilience. Shiro’s fever had gone down considerably and he had been awake enough to protest the IV when Hunk had won the argument over whether or not he could shower off the fever sweat. If the doctor was to be believed, Shiro would be allowed to return to the castle the next day, albeit with strict orders to rest and not train for a few days longer. Necessary combat, he had assured them, was acceptable, but any unnecessary stress was not advised. Shiro had grumbled quietly about it, but stopped after Keith scowled at him.

 

Post shower, Hunk sat blearily in a chair, half asleep as the bedclothes were swapped out. Lance and Pidge shared a chair beside him, equally bleary. Keith had been bodily remove dby Kolivan, for some Blade business.

“Here. Hold him still,” an aide said suddenly, and Hunk found himself with his arms and lap full of Shiro. He blinked down at their leader, who looked at least as surprised as Hunk was.

“.....um…”

“‘S fine,” Shiro sighed heavily, tucking his limbs into Hunk’s lap a little more neatly and leaning back into Hunk’s chest until Hunk was forced to put an arm around to steady him. “‘F you don’t mind…”

“It’s alright,” Hunk decided, shifting a little more until Shiro was properly cradled against him. It was impressive how small a space Shiro could pack himself into; Hunk and his lap were of a good size, but Shiro was _not_ a small man. In Hunk’s hold he was heavy and solid, all firm muscle even when he was mostly relaxed. He was kind of cute like this, actually, bundled up in a sweater Coran had brought over, face half smashed against Hunk’s chest. His forelock hung in his face, half hiding the spectacular black eyes that hadn’t yet begun to fade.

“He likes it when Keith pets his hair,” Pidge yawned from their chair. “You could try that.”

Hunk hesitated, then began to stroke Shiro’s hair as though he was soothing his cousin’s baby daughter. And it _worked_ about as well as it had always worked on her: Shiro sighed quietly and went slack against Hunk’s chest, breathing evening out.

“So it’s not…..you know…..a Keith thing?” Hunk asked quietly.

“Not until Keith figures out how much Shiro likes it,” they murmured. “Especially when _he_ does it. Shiro’s like headpets for as long as Matt’d known him...but he really likes Keith’s.”

“Yeah...I’d noticed that. Are they….or... _were_ they a...a thing?”

Pidge grinned. “They _want_ to be.”

Hunk nodded thoughtfully. “Huh...that’s...that’s interesting, actually. You think it would be good for them? I do…”

“I think so. It would give them more of an excuse to..be together. Which is good for them both, and it has been for a long time. So yeah, I think it would be.” Pidge hugged a knee to their chest and eyed Hunk. “He’s looking better….and he’s not shaking so much.”

“I’m warm,” Hunk chuckled. “It helps.”

“I know that, but he doesn’t look like he’s in pain anymore. Except for the black eyes, but…”

“Those shouldn’t hurt much. Hey…...d’you think we could use this pack-bonding thing?”

“Use it how?”

“To make sure Keith and Shiro both get enough rest?”

Pidge looked up, eyebrow raised. Seeing no sign of a joke on Hunk’s face, they slowly began to smile, then to girn.

“You _know_ ….that might work. Dropping Keith on him when they both need a break?”

“The Galra parts _need_ it,” Hunk agreed. “I don’t think Keith had gotten this much sleep in _months_. If I’d known all it would take was a nap with the whole team, I’d’ve done something about it.”

Pidge nodded. “When everything’s back to normal, we’ll try it out.”

 

\-----------------

It took longer than planned to test the theory that Keith and Shiro’s Galra influence could be played to advantage. Shortly after returning to regular duty, the team found themselves on a strong of rescue missions and ran themselves ragged keeping up with it all.

 

As Hunk reckoned it, it had been nearly two months since the Radmacher’s Disease incident. The team was having a quiet day, waiting for Keith, who had ended the last fight with four broken ribs and a hole in his thigh, to be released from the healing pods. Hunk and Pidge both had something to tinker with while they waited, but neither was doing much tinkering; Shiro, waiting on the other side of the pod, had been sniffling and clearing his throat for the better part of the last _day_. His nose had gone pink and tender-looking hours ago.

Hunk and Pidge exchanged a look. Pidge tapped out a quick message to Lance on their data pad, sending the Blue Paladin off on a seemingly random errand without a sound.

“Ahh, here we are,” Coran declared as Keith’s pod hissed open. Shiro darted forward to catch him as he stumbled out.

As soon as a quick check confirmed that Keith had healed up properly, Hunk announced that lunch was happening in the rec room _now_ and Shiro should make sure Keith got there. Couldn’t let him walk on a freshly healed leg wound without supervision, after all.

By the time the last two paladins arrived, Hunk, Lance, Pidge and Allura were all arranged on couches, leaving a very obvious spot just big enough for two right in the middle.

“....um…” Keith managed.

“...how long have you been planning this?” Shiro asked, eyeing the blanket thrown casually over the back of the couch...right where it _never_ was on a normal day.

Hunk smiled innocently. “Planning lunch? About a day and a half. Sit down, both of you, you need to eat.”

 

Crammed in side by side, with bowls of some kind of stew and fresh biscuits in hand, Keith began to relax. Shiro sniffled more, cleared his throat less, and appeared to droop.

As Hunk cleared bowls, Allura stood, whisked the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it around both Keith and Shiro before either could object.

“ _Now_ , you’re both going to stay put and _rest,”_ she said firmly. “And the rest of us are taking shifts in here to make sure you do as you’re told.”

“But-” Shiro began, starting to get up. Keith pulled him back down by one arm, yawning.

“You’re getting sick,” he pointed out. “Do I get first watch?”

“ _No_ , you’re here to rest after your stint in the pod. But if you feel like reporting on Shiro if his illness gets worse…”

Keith looked at Shiro, who wrinkled his nose. “It’s just a cold.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, looked at his friends, then sighed. “Alright, _fine_. But don’t think I don’t know what you’re all up to.”

“Actually, it’s for your own _good_!” Coran declared. “There is a great deal about the Galra in the medical files the Blade of Marmora updated for us!”

“He’s right,” Pidge agreed, carrying over a second blanket. “ _Especially_ for you, Keith, but for the both of you, this is an actual biological _need_ . Think of it as...like those sunlamps they use in areas above the Arctic Circle, to combat Seasonal Affective Disorder. You need physical contact. And since both of you need to rest _anyway_ , we’re taking care of both things at once.”

“...the doctors said more of you worked better,” Shiro pointed out.

“Which is why we’re having dinner and a movie in here tonight, and dragging the mattresses in for a people pile,” Hunk declared. “Already decided, already planned for. Gotcha covered.”

“That’s…” Shiro smiled faintly and relaxed, swinging his legs up onto the couch with a sigh. Keith squawked, tipped half on his side, and adjusted to tuck himself in along Shiro’s hip. They both began fighting with the tangle of blanket. “Thank you.”

“We’re a team,” Lance said firmly, grabbing a free corner of blanket and helping before someone ended up strangled by it. “Or a pack. Whatever.”

“Yeah, I….guess we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I did indeed take touch starvation to a new level with my madeup Galra biology. No, I'm not sorry for it.


End file.
